


Drape Me In Your Warmth

by writingramblr



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alley Blow Jobs, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Credence Barebone Gets a Hug, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mary Lou Barebone is Her Own Warning, Multiple Orgasms, Original Percival Graves is a Softie, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Religious Guilt, accidental sugar daddy graves, credence crying during sex, no-maj money is confusing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 21:19:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10705320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: Graves has been giving donations to the Second Salemites, mainly by accident.He doesn't know how no-maj currency works, not really, but he loves seeing Credence smile.





	Drape Me In Your Warmth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jeahtastic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeahtastic/gifts).



> #oops-i-did-it-again

Mister Graves wanted to buy him a cup of hot chocolate, because he thought Credence looked cold, so he let him. 

The next day the man said he looked tired, so when he gave him a five dollar bill for a coffee and a treat from the bakery, he took it.

The day after that, he told Credence he wanted a bowl of soup, and some grilled cheese, and would he join him? 

Of course he did. He was hungry too.

Then Mister Graves ran into him on Friday afternoon, and said he could probably use a new jacket. 

“I don’t really understand this… uh, currency. What would a jacket cost you?”

From the thrift store? A dollar fifty perhaps.

Credence flushed, and lied to the only person in his life he could get away with doing it to,

“Ten dollars sir.”

“Splendid. I think that should cover it.”

The man handed him a twenty.

Credence had never seen so much money in his entire life. 

He accepted it with shaky hands, but Mister Graves said nothing, because his hands always shook.

Every time the man gave him money, he passed it along into the church donation box, and ma was never surprised, not easily.

Until that day.

“Credence!”

Her voice was shrill, like being slapped in the face, but she never would do such a thing, no, she only used other objects to hit him with.

“Yes ma?”

“Who is responsible for this?”

She was clutching the twenty dollar bill with a few other singles, and he felt his knees threatening to give out.

“I was talking to a man today, he seemed interested in the cause. He passed it to me, and told me to talk to him again someday.”

“Credence, this is a lot of money. You’re sure he didn’t want anything else?”

Her calm tone now worried him more than when she was angry.

“Yes ma.”

“Alright.”

 

The next day, Mister Graves approached him while he was standing in front of the town hall, and looked almost amused.

“Credence, are you well?”

“Yes sir.”

“You look famished, my boy. Come, join me for lunch.”

He couldn’t say no to that either.

The man withdrew his nice black leather wallet when it was time to pay, and Credence almost spilled his remaining iced tea, as the man set down a twenty, and then held over a fifty for him to take.

“Sir…”

“You need a nice pair of gloves. It’ll be getting very cold out soon. Can’t have you handing out fliers with chapped knuckles, now can we?”

Credence was certain he would be sent straight to hell for it, but his heart skipped a beat when their fingers met, as the man handed him the crisp bill, and he tucked it into his vest for safe keeping.

“N-no, sir, thank you sir.”

“Certainly, my boy.”

Every time the man called him that,  _ his _ , Credence thought God would surely strike him down, for he only wanted more than anything to be just that, the man’s.

He wanted the man to let his hand linger, he wanted to feel the man’s breath on his skin, his fingers on his cheek, to be  _ held _ .

So many forbidden desires, they inevitably spilled over into his dreams, leaving him tangled in sweaty sheets, and with wetness between his legs, where he’d finished while unconscious, and self abused himself against his sleep pants.

By accident.

But ma always knew.

He never intended to show her the fifty, but he knew there was a leaky part of the church's roof, and it would cost money to repair. Money they now had.

Ma didn’t see it that way.

She called him a whore, a filthy sinner, and he wondered if it had more to do with his sheets that he’d ruined, than with the fact he was trying to be helpful.

The next time he saw Mister Graves he knew he had to say something, to tell him he needed to stop giving him so much money for so little return.

If he was a whore, he might as well act like one.

When Mister Graves walked with him inside the diner, he turned and leaned close to peck the man’s cheek, and his lips burned throughout the entire meal.

The man said nothing about it, and didn’t notice Credence’s half hearted attempts to nudge his feet against the man’s, trying to be useful, to be seductive. He wanted to slip off his shoe and rub his foot over the man’s ankles, but he kept missing. Mister Graves reached for his wallet once they were done, first to pay for the meal, then to hand him a folded bill.

His mouth went dry and his throat threatened to close up as he stared at the bold numbers on the paper.

“What’s wrong, my boy?”

“Mister Graves, sir…”

His voice was scratchy like he’d not spoken in weeks, though he had, he’d been polite, and answered all the man’s questions about ma’s group, about the church, about himself even.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

He would pay the man back, he  _ would _ . He would provide proper service, and give the man his money’s worth.

As they left the diner, they turned right, passing one of the city’s many dirty alleys, and Credence’s heart leapt into his throat, as he saw his chance and decided to take it.

His arm was hanging free at his side, as the man’s hand was resting gently at the small of his back, so he reached up to take one of the man’s lapels, and tugged him off the sidewalk.

“Credence… what-?”

He guided the man to stand against the wall of the alley, and dared to meet his eyes, licking his lips nervously,

“Please, hold still.”

* * *

 

Percival watched, slack jawed and wide eyed as the Barebone boy dropped to his knees in front of him, running shaky hands over his trouser clad thighs in a soothing manner, as if petting a startled horse, and he tried to come up with something to say, a protest of confusion that didn’t make him sound desperate for exactly the opposite.

When he felt the brush of tentative fingers over his groin, he automatically cast a  _ notice-me-not _ towards the general opening of the alleyway, and held his breath, watching as the boy undid the zipper and button, and reached inside, palming him over his underwear.

He was hard already, he was almost always painfully so around Credence, and it wasn’t right, he knew it, he shouldn’t have been having feelings for the no-maj boy, not without proper cause or reason. In the eyes of the law, there were none.

The hand over his cock tightened just a bit, and he barely resisted the urge to shift closer, to press his hips into the touch with purpose, instead, he found the words he’d been missing.

“Credence… what are you doing?”

He’d meant to ask,  _ ‘just what do you  _ think _ you are doing?’ _ but that seemed a bit rude, so he changed it at the last second.

Maybe the boy was just confused, and had meant to go in for a hug, or another kiss to the cheek, and simply fallen.

_ Oh. _

A hot mouth pressed over the head of his cock, saliva wetting the fabric through completely, and he knew the boy would be able to taste the pre if he hadn’t yet already.

“Mister Graves, sir… you’ve been paying me for so long, I shouldn’t have kept you waiting. I’m sorry.”

The boy’s fingers were relatively cool against his heated skin, dipping under the elastic waistband of his underwear, and tugging it down to let his cock spring free, so that he could put the head of it between his pink plush lips, just barely licking over the slit with a soft movement.

For someone who looked very much like an innocent, he sure knew what he was doing...before Percival could think better of it, he put a hand to the boy’s godawful haircut, and carded his fingers through the short dark waves, and let his head fall back against the unforgiving brick.

At least he could enjoy it, and then obliviate the boy after, and tuck the money into a pocket for him to keep.

The boy had him halfway into his mouth now, cheeks hollowed around his length, and his fingers remained gentle, holding him at the base.

Only a few moments had slipped by, but already he was feeling a familiar coil in his abdomen, feverish warmth was overpowering the chill of the fall wind.

“Credence…”

His voice broke on the boy’s name, and he felt him pause, pulling back away from Percival’s cock to stare up at him, liquid eyes shining. To his shame, he felt a thrill at seeing how the boy’s lips were slightly swollen, and wet with saliva. The boy must have pushed himself too hard, and nearly choked, for his cheeks were streaked with silently shed tears.

“You should stop…”

Credence nodded, and he dragged his hand from the boy’s hair to cup his cheek, thumbing away the tears he could reach.

“I don’t think I want to, Mister Graves.”

He leaned back in, and swallowed down Percival’s cock so deep and so fast he could feel the back of the boy’s throat, forcing a groan from his lips.

He was close, so very close, and the instant the boy nosed against his stomach, sucking harder, he lost the fight.

His hand tightened on the boy’s face, and he put his other to brace on the back of the boy’s head, and hissed low under his breath as he came, several slow pulses that made his knees weaken, and Credence couldn’t stifle a cough when he pulled away again, leaning back on his heels to gaze up at him, looking a bit worried.

“Fuck… what am I going to do with you?”

The boy’s bottom lip wobbled,

“Sir, you’ve more than bought a night with me. If you want to take me home, you should. You paid for it.”

Percival knew better than to accept such an offer, and he carefully tucked his now soft but still spit slick cock away, and redid his pants with a wave of his hand, reluctantly showing off, and confirming, he would need to wipe the boy’s memory.

He helped him up to his feet, and he could see how Credence winced. Kneeling on concrete wasn’t pleasant, yet he’d not complained at all. He twirled his fingers and sent a general healing charm to permeate the boy’s body. He would not be sent home damaged.

“You’re so lovely… I wish we could have… well…”

He kept a hand on the back of the boy’s neck, fingers curling into his nape, pressing their foreheads together, as he exhaled a sigh, along with a silent  _ obliviate _ cast.

He would need to let go, and vanish into the crowd, or disapparate before the boy opened his eyes and questioned why he was standing in a filthy alleyway with a stranger.

He couldn’t resist stealing a kiss, and the bitterness he tasted on the boy’s lips was his own, but it might as well have been from handing over his heart as well.

“Mister Graves… please, don’t leave me alone. Let me serve you more.”

Percival started, and the boy blinked over at him, hands clutching his lapels in a somewhat frantic manner.

How did Credence know his name still?

That should have been gone… evaporated along with the past few intimate moments they had shared…

“Credence… take my arm.”

* * *

 

The pressure on his lungs ceased in a split second, and Credence straightened up to find himself looking at a crackling fireplace, not a half empty trash can. Warmth bled over his skin, and he found himself gravitating towards it, falling to his knees to hold his hands up to it, until it became too much, and his palms began to smart.

He winced again as his legs protested from having been against cold concrete for so many minutes

“Can I get you something to drink? I’m going to drink. It’s five o’clock somewhere…”

The man was saying, sounding a bit weary, and Credence wondered if he would mind a shoulder massage to relax him, or if he would prefer to have him before sleeping.

“Sir, how can I help  _ you _ ?”

He looked over to find Mister Graves opening a decanter of amber liquid, possibly whiskey, and when their eyes met, the man dropped the bottle.

He winced, preparing for the sound of shattering glass, and wondering how he could possibly make up the damage, but it never came, and instead, he glanced down to see the decanter hovering just inches from the ground, before rising back to rest on the counter.

The man sighed, and put a hand to his temples, massaging himself vigorously for a moment,

“Credence… I have a problem. I need to know why you resisted a spell. How a no-maj could do such a thing is beyond me.”

He frowned,

“A what mash?”

Mister Graves poured himself a bit of the liquor, and took a long sip, before coming out of the kitchen, and taking a seat on the couch facing the fire.

“You’re not like me, my boy. You’re of the part of the world that has no magical ability. Except a high resistance to charms, it seems.”

He smiled, but it looked sad on his face, and Credence hated to see him like that, he wanted to do good, to please the man, to give him what he’d paid for.

A night and a half of using him, and his body, and he would do it gladly. He got up slowly, and crawled over to the man, who watched him, until he was resting his hands on the man’s knees, and leaning down to press his cheek to the soft fabric covering his inner thigh.

“What do you want me to do?”

He blinked up at Mister Graves, who seemed to be frozen, unable to do anything but stare, as he slid his hands higher, moving closer together and nearer the growing lump between his legs.

“Credence… would you take my wand, just for a moment?”

He frowned, a bit confused, and then shifted his hand to rest right over the man’s cock,

“Okay.”

The man choked on his sip of whiskey,

“My boy, I mean, my actual wand… not my dick.”

Credence could feel his cheeks heating, and he pulled back, as the man twirled his fingers, and suddenly held out a thin black rod, with a streak of silver near the end, the handle, he guessed.

“What should I do?”

“Take it, and try to visualize something you want.”

Credence swallowed thickly, and carefully took it from Mister Graves’ palm, feeling a curling of warmth suffuse through him at the touch of the wood.

He only wanted one thing in that moment.

_ Mister Graves, naked, with himself pinned beneath the man. _

There was a flash of bright light, and the next thing he knew he was on his back, sensitive skin rubbing against soft sheets, while a warm weight nestled between his legs.

He drew in a shuddering breath, and he realized Mister Graves was on top of him, and staring down at him with wide eyes. Then he noticed they were indeed without any clothing, and there was more bare skin to skin contact than he’d ever experienced in his life.

He opened his hands and dropped the wooden rod, and then brought both his arms up to hide his face. His cock was throbbing between his legs, curving obscenely up to graze wetly over his stomach, and Mister Graves felt  _ so good _ just touching him, without even any intent. The cuts from the belt on his back had healed enough, but itched and burned as he was laying on the cotton of the man’s bed.

“Oh thank Merlin… you’re a wizard.”

Credence tried to open his mouth, parting his fingers to peek up at the man, but then they were being gently pushed away, he was being kissed, and hips were grinding down over his own, ripping a gasp from his throat.

“Mister Graves!”

Just a slight press of friction to his cock, trapped between their bodies, and he was coming, spilling over his skin and trembling under the man, as he felt a wet drag of lips on his jaw and over his neck.

“Perfect, beautiful, sensitive, you’re a wonder, Credence. I wish I’d known sooner.”

He was sobbing, he knew it, his whole body shook from the aftershocks, and when a hand wrapped around his cock, and Mister Graves was murmuring further praises, filthy words and compliments dripping from his tongue, he knew he was lost, gone from the lord’s light and doomed to hell. 

But oh, how he wanted to fall.

“Please, let me…”

“Credence, my boy, you’re doing fine. I just want to see you come again.”

Suddenly there was a cool slickness and a press of fingers beneath his sack, and against the place that led people like him to sin, that was what he felt next, and his eyes snapped open as he looked to find the man putting his mouth to his stomach, cleaning the white smears of his spend up with his tongue, like a cat lapping at cream.

He couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his spine, even as the man nudged a finger inside of him, up to the first knuckle, he felt as if he might burst into flames, before there was even a touch to his cock again.

“Mister Gra-a-aves!”

“Hmm?”

He couldn’t stand it, the pleasure was overpowering all of his rationale, after spending so many nights resisting the urge to self abuse, allowing all his wants and desires to surge to the forefront of his mind, it felt so right to do wrong.

“Come for me.”

A strong arm was all that kept him from arching off the bed as his arousal snapped, and sparks exploded through his veins, he barely even noticed a second finger sliding alongside the first, as long as the man never stopped touching him, he would die happily.

“I want to fuck you… does that fall into the budget, my boy?”

Credence could barely see straight, so he just nodded. In the moment, he didn’t even know what that meant. Mister Graves could have him anyway he desired if it would be as good as that.

When he caught his breath, he opened his eyes again to find the man kneeling between his legs, stroking himself lazily, and just watching slowly recover.

“Sir?”

“You’re gorgeous. Flushed and high off two orgasms. I wish you could always be like this.”

“I can. It just costs…”

Mister Graves laughed, to his surprise, and leaned down to peck his cheek,

“Sweet boy, I don’t intend you to be my whore. I want you to move in with me. Stay with me and let me teach you to use that incredible magic you’ve been hiding...hmm?”

Credence blinked rapidly, and barely noticed when the man started pressing his cock inside of his hole, so relaxed and hypersensitive that it made him tense, and let out a whimper, until Mister Graves kissed him, soundly on the mouth, and he closed his eyes again. It doubled the feelings, losing one of his senses like that, and he couldn’t hold back, he wrapped his arms around Mister Graves’ shoulders, and clung to him, as a groan left the man’s lips, vanishing into their kiss.

Minute thrusts of the man’s hips made him tingle all over, and he wondered if it was possible to finish again, if he could come without a single touch to his cock.

He wanted to, very much.

“You really want me sir?”

“I want you to be safe, and happy. If those things can be found with me, I would like you to stay.”

Credence couldn’t help crying again, and he nodded, pressing his face into the crook of the man’s neck and shoulder, 

“Please, please, please…”

“It’s okay, you’re okay.”

The man’s arms were trembling, and when he slumped over Credence, with his cock emptying deep inside of him, he tried to breathe, just to remain calm, but every cell of his body seemed to be singing. 

He didn’t have to go back to the church. 

He didn’t have to suffer another beating for a mistake he didn’t even know he’d made.

Mister Graves  _ wanted _ him, scars and all.

“Credence… could you do me a favor?”

He swallowed, and then watched as the man rolled off of him, to lay on his side, dragging a hand down Credence’s chest, before he answered hoarsely,

“Anything sir.”

“Please, call me Percival.”

 

* * *

**end**

  
  



End file.
